I Can See You

While I was having one of those mental exchanges between my sleazy and semi-conservative selves, I suddenly remembered the movie Flipped and started chanting Bryce Loski's first name. I realized how sexy my voice actually sounds when I say it. "Bryce, Bryce...Hey, Bryce!"

Speaking of love, I happened to chance upon a rather annoying couple yesterday at Chowking. I was starving at home because I forgot to include trash food in my mom's shopping list so I pulled my sister to Robinson's, whipped out my phone and texted Mum and Dad:


we're out 2 find food. Telling u in case u come home & we're still not ther haha

to which my dad replied thirty minutes later saying he's coming, after I had already paid for the food. Gah.

I brought the copy of Pam Pastor's Paper Cuts which I lent from a friend (we recently developed a habit of exchanging books). Luck seemed to be guiding me to a better road that day, because the previously empty table that was settled in front of me was then occupied by infuriatingly cheesy lovers. I'm happy Pam Pastor isn't the romantic type. If she were, and I were unintentionally reading a chic lit novel, I would have died. Don't people know how to tame themselves these days, or are they just waiting for a camera crew to catch whatever indecencies they are doing on film? I don't get why the couple had to make sounds usually heard in cheap-arse motels and double-locked bedrooms. Obviously I didn't need to witness their old-school cuddling. It's not as if I'm a lonely old maid. And if I were, I'd have better things to do than watch free underdeveloped porn live, like knit rainbow sweaters and learn Sanskrit. And drive my sister to riveting heights with my supersonic voice.

The lesson here is, don't get too shady in fast food restaurants. People are watching.

And some actually write about what they see.